Falling From Grace
by alteon77
Summary: In a post war world, Hermione is taken prisoner after the order loses the battle. A dark and bitter Snape comes to take her, but has he come to rescue her? Rated R for language and some "insinuated" happenings.
1. Default Chapter

AN: This is my first fanfic, and I have no beta, so please consider that before ripping me to pieces in your review. Also, I know the story is dark but it will brighten up in the future. This is a Hermione (older) and Snape romance. If you don't like that, please don't read. Thanks!

The war has been going on for years. For years, my order has fought for our lives, for our will, for a cause that we believed to be our salvation.

We have failed.

There is something almost amusing in my now state of delirium. We should have given up long ago, allowed the defeat. At least then most of us would be alive, instead of festering and rotting in the ground. My friends….they would be alive, albeit unhappy, but alive. An overwhelming need to sob crawls up my throat, but I do not give in, not in this world where my very weaknesses chew up my soul. A bitter taste fills my mouth, and I swallow thickly. The iron taste of blood swirls around my head. At least soon it will be over. My body is bruised and broken. I cannot take any more beatings, and I pray that death will come before the night falls. I entertain my sick mind with thoughts of what once was. I choke back sobs and try my best to pull myself into that old world that I cared so much about. At least then, I could die in some place that was happy, promising, not so degrading and soul splintering as this. I wait for hours, but fate, it seems, has made her own cruel decisions. Death for me is not to be. The relentless body that at first seemed so lucky is now only a curse, one that will keep me in these cold, stone walls forever. The dismay is crushing my chest as the guards lead me back to my cage. If Harry could see me now naked, shuddering, and cold, on the floor of a cage, what would he say? Would he laugh? Would he cry? Would he save the day as was always his wont? Or would he scream at me for betraying him? It does not matter, because Harry is dead. He died with his pretty wife by his side, his pretty wife who was not me. For his betrayal I killed him, sunk that powerful spell he himself had taught me right in his chest. I shake the memories from my head. They are all I have now. Memories of a time when I was once moderately happy. Memories of a time before hell swallowed me up. At least I had more in the form of companions than the crumbling stone of these walls. What I would give to see them fall, to crash them in a fit of power and anger. My torturers are not that stupid though, and in form with this keep me away from the walls, knowing I will be too weak to get any magic so far as across the room to break the walls that make up my prison. Perhaps I should tell them not to bother. In my thick, lonely cage of a home, I cannot even move.

Sobs try to crawl up my throat again, but I swallow them down. Perhaps they will choke me, lodge themselves in my throat and refuse to move until I suffocate. Heaven knows I have enough of them in my belly as is. I start laughing to keep the sobs at bay. My mind has been shredded and my soul consumed by sadness and hate. I am no longer what I used to be: the goody two-shoes Hermione Granger. I doubt I am even human now. This thought pushes me to the edge, and I give in to the tears, letting forth a torrent of emotions and pain. For a brief moment, I hope I have enough in me to drown myself in their salty depths. Once again, I am disappointed and fall into an uneasy sleep.

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Our order has fallen. We have been destroyed, killed by our own struggle for life. I wake with the memory of those words screaming in my sleep. The dreams are too horrible to even remember now. Not that I sleep very often. The part of me that went to muggle school knows that the lack of sleep makes me weak, more susceptible to the death I so crave. I lay for an eternity, waiting almost eagerly for the torture that might mean my death today. Instead, I am brought fresh clothes and a bowl of water to clean. I ignore it until the guard softly prompts me to bathe. In my shock, I wonder where his gentle voice came from, and I cannot bear it: the pity from this man I have considered the devil, this man who has tortured me ruthlessly now talking as though he reveres me.

My lower lip sticks out in a move of defiance. Maybe this denial will mean my death.

"You should dress, Ms. Granger" A deep, seductive voice from the corner prompts as Snape clothed only in black and power steps out of it. Realization dawns on my gaunt face. The Bastard… The little energy I have left focuses on our spy, the man who was to be our salvation, now proving to be our betrayer. Faces flash before my eyes, and I remember Ron, crying before Lucius' spell killed him, begging me to tell his mother he loved her. I think of Sirius, of Lupin, of all the casualties Dumbledore and Voldemort's war have brought to my once world. Snape just watches me, his ghostly white face the first thing I see coming out of my thoughts. He smirks in amusement, as though reading my mind. I remember that smirk, too. Every day I had class with him, I would look at that smirk and tremble. He hated us all, even then, and I wonder briefly if he was ever on our side at all.

"I will be wanting your company very soon." The corners of his mouth turn upward in yet another grin, and at that moment I want to spit at him. The soul-consuming depression turns into fire in my mind. This is the man who betrayed our kind. It was him alone who saw us all die. And now, this thing wants to speak to me, to act as if he had not killed my friends, as if he had not tortured me to the very depths of insanity.

I ignore him, the anger curling itself through my veins and squeezing my heart. I bite my tongue to keep the comments in my mouth.

"Oh, dear," he says in that same teasing, sick, melodic tone, "be careful not to bite too hard, or you'll hurt that precious tongue. We need a chance to talk, you and I." Talk? This ruthless man, no not man—beast, wants to sit down and chat with me, like we are old acquaintances merely discussing the weather. I laugh aloud at his suggestion, causing him to frown.

"You will get dressed, clean up, and come to me, or I will destroy the little present I've got for you." Then, he waits patiently, as though he has all the time in the world for me to comply. I glare daggers at him, and finally go to get, however grudgingly, the bundle of clothes the guard had brought earlier for me. It is not in my nature to be so compliant, and this show of broken will grates at what little pride I have left. With angry, jerky motions I throw the clothes on. Some self-preserving quality has kicked in by now, and that stuns me to my very core. I guess that everyone has some sort of will to live, even people who beg for death nightly. When I have dressed, he very curtly tells the guard to leave.

"Things have turned out so dark." He whispers, barely audibly above the cracking in my bones as I stretch out. My first time out of the cage in months without consequences. The taste of freedom, though, was heady. It was making me dizzy with the feel of power.

"They will be a lot brighter when you are burning in hell." I snarl back at him. He laughs faintly for a moment, then reaches his long, pale fingers into his jacket pocket to bring out a cigarette case and lighter.

"Mind if I smoke?" he asks politely, to which all I can do is nod incredulously. But then, the whole situation is unbelievable. Three months ago, I would have told him 'no' for fear of lung cancer, but now I don't even bother. What the hell do I care for my lungs now?

"What do you want, Severus?"


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to Sesshomaru's Angel for her review. It was very 'inspiring' (hint, hint). Here is the second chapter with a new one scheduled at the end of the week. Remember, the story will very gradually get brighter in the future, so don't be put off by the sad tone of it. Also, I still have no beta, so there may be little things that are incorrect in grammar and punctuation. They are little, though. Thanks!!!

CHAPTER 2 

"What do you want, Severus?" I ask, not bothering to hide my anger at his mellow tone.

He looks surprised at this, as though he was expecting a professor in front of his title. "I didn't mean for things to turn out like this" For a moment, he sounds unsure and I am worried that delusions have finally set in from the pain. The cold, arrogant bastard that I have become so accustomed to is never unsure of himself, and even then Severus Snape does not wear his feelings on his sleeve. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to catch myself in a hallucination.

He straightens up awkwardly. I just sneer back.

"I don't want your excuses." I throw back at him, relishing the feel of freedom out of my cage. Severus puts his lighter to his cigarette and lights it, letting out a puff.

"Well, Ms. Granger, you don't want to know what went wrong with my genius plan?"

"Not particularly. Severus, you betrayed me. You betrayed us. You killed everyone I held dear. How did you expect me to react?"

"I killed everyone?" He looks at me questionably. "Don't act like the impetuous little girl. You need someone to blame for the lives of your pathetic friends, blame Voldemort. I will be your villain in only some ways." The placid façade is gone now, only to be replaced with anger.

I soldier on though, the chance to die knowing that I had said what needed to be said powering me. I know that weeks in such fatigue and cold will kill me, and that is what I want. I crave death as much as I crave a way to feel like when it was all said and done, I went down fighting.

"That's fair. There is a problem with that though. You did betray us, so no matter what kind of excuses or acts you want to hide behind, you are still partly responsible. Now let me go back into that miserable little cage and die"

For a moment, he stares me down, and I meet his gaze.

"No." he very simply tells me, rolling the cigarette in his hands.

For several moments, time stretches out between us until finally he speaks again.

"Did you know that Harry had a dream the week before he died?" He paused for a moment to let the information register with me. "It's true. He saw his death before it happened. Do you know what he asked of me?"

There is another deafening moment of pregnant silence. Severus watches me as though anxious, as though I should know what he is to say. The monster has me in his game now. I am at his mercy, completely perplexed. All of those years he called me an 'insufferable know it all' shatter in that one moment of victory when all I can do is manage a weak "I don't."

"He asked me to look after you."

The statement sank into me with viciousness. All of the tears and pain of a decade of war hit me, full force and merciless.

"No…" I murmur against the torrent of feeling, of grief and hurt. My knees give out and I sink to the ground, little more than a mass of weeping, hurting being. I cry then with abandon. Why should I care if anyone sees me, if they think I am weak. I am.

He makes no move to soothe me as though to emphasize the loneliness and desolation of my situation. So I cry for what seems like an eternity, tears that I had denied so long. There was so much pain, and it felt a little better to let it out.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, swallowing down the remaining tears.

He thinks on this for a moment, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Honestly, I want to keep a promise to a friend. It will be a way to redeem myself."

I stare for a moment, unsure of my response, the confusion rolling in my brain. Friend? When was Severus Snape, bastard extraordinaire and all over greasy git, friends with my Harry, and why in the world had I not known about it. I stumble over possible explanations in my head, then over possible comments to seal my own personal deal with the devil. For moments, I weigh the choices of life in submission or death out of stubbornness. And after careful consideration, I decide I would rather die. After all, what does one say to something like that, especially when that someone is as willful and hard headed as I am?

"I'm not your project, Severus. Go find some other way to redeem yourself, because I just might stick my wand through that cold lump of stone you call a heart while you're sleeping"

He just smirks in that eerie way of his and takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Aren't we picky. Let me explain it to you in other terms.You do this or you die."

Well, after a statement like that, what kind of choice does a girl have really. I smile as demurely as possible and tell him that I would rather die than look at his pasty face for the rest of my life. Severus grimaces as though the words cut him. God, how I wish they did.

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The next hour is a haze of events. I follow the monster to the den, numb and unfeeling in the cold despair that death is not eminent. My feet, battered and broken, shuffle along the cold stone floors. What is to become of me? Do I even care? The questions run through my mind repeatedly until I want to grab my hair and pull it out.

"We will be sleeping in here." He tells me, pushing open a large wooden door and motioning for the guard to leave. I shuffle in, my head down in an unusual show of weakness. I just want to lay down and sleep. Severus, as though reading my thoughts motions to a large bed.

"We will eat first. Then sleep." He tells me, guiding me to a small wooden table.

A wave of nausea hits me, and I lean forward to retch. It has been days since there was food on my stomach and the scent of it is making my stomach turn over. I run for the bathroom, my bare feet freezing on the freezing floor. After a long bout of retching in the cold tile bathroom, I emerge. Everything is him, distant and icy. I am surrounded by it. The room is white and the absurdity of it makes me want to laugh. Why in the world would death eaters need such a peaceful environment to sleep in? I am reminded of a hospital. It is so sterile. He is so sterile, the cold, white features of his face in sharp contrast to the black of his shirt and hair. He is trying to forget. I know that in one look at his ghostly white features. He wants redemption from his past. He wants a way out of his mess, and for a moment- just a moment- I understand why he is this way, so cold and unfeeling. With a life so full of horrors, being any other way would mean his death.

"Stupid girl, do you have enough sense to come eat." He shoots at me and all thoughts of understanding are gone. How does one understand a monster?

I shake my head at him and collapse on the floor below me. This room, it is a cage, a bit bigger than my old one but still a cage. This man, an icy, dark excuse for a human being, is my torturer. With the two together, perhaps I can still join Harry wherever he has gone. Perhaps, if I have my way I can join him relatively soon.

Severus smirks at me. I am getting really sick of that twisted, maniacal smirk. I want to wipe it off his face. "Suit yourself if you don't want to eat," he tells me, taking a bite of his meal and smirking again when my stomach rolls in response. "I know that you have resigned yourself to death, but between you and I , Ms. Granger, if you were meant to die, it would have happened long ago. No, I know you, and I know your kind. You are far too stubborn to just lie down and die…"


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys! Sorry for the delay. I've had relatives over for quite some time (ugh). Next chapter is already written. I just need to correct it. Thanks to all my reviewers! You are all great! I really enjoyed your comments. Well, here is chapter 3. Enjoy.

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And so it turns out that he does. I try to lie down and die, but it does not come. Even weeks after I became his property, I lay here and try to will myself to stop breathing- a skill that I thought my misery and pain would bestow me with. Severus knows. I can tell by that sick smile on that pale face. He always knows. That's why he once made such a wonderful spy.

"How are you?" Severus' heavy voice comes from the doorway to the room as I involuntarily jump at the sound. Unbidden, an overwhelming sense of sadness comes over me. What the hell have I become? I used to worry about OWLS and schoolwork, and now…Years of war will do that to a person.

"What business is it of yours?" I ask, shrugging, my face once again an impassive mask. It was not his business anymore. He looks at me with his lips twisted into that same thin smile I had grown so accustomed to.

"Do you feel well enough to go out for a while?" He asks, going to the trunk at the foot of the bed and unlocking it.

I sit here, catching flies in the gape of my mouth, wondering what in the hell this strange man is talking about.

He stops his rummaging for a minute to give me a somewhat condescending look.

"Well, well, well, Ms. Granger, I always assumed you were at least somewhat intelligent. Can you really tell me that you do not know what I mean when I ask you if you would like to leave this place for a while?" He brings out a wand as I advance on him, all of my previous doubts and astonishment abandoned, the witch in me hungry for the familiar feel of the magical stick in my hands. I can almost feel the ridges under my fingertips and the thrum of magic flowing through me. Severus pulls back, like one might play with their cat.

"No, no, no, Ms Granger. I seem to recall your promise to…what was it? Oh, yes, stick a wand through the cold lump of stone I call my heart. No, no, no, darling. I believe if you behave, I might give you a peppermint stick, see what you can do with that."

I grimace at him, refusing to give into begging. Through months of torture, I had refused to beg. Why in the hell would I start now. The light in the room dances on the shiny wood, weakening my resolve. Oh, God, I am going to beg…

"Severus, please. You know I didn't mean it." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. A part of me crumbles at the smile he gives my broken pride. Sick bastard…

"I was emotionally overwrought." It is such a childish behavior, really, begging for something so material simply because I want it and perhaps, just perhaps I know that he will eventually give in and hand it to me.

He refuses.

With as much indignation and stubbornness as I had used to take months of torture without begging, he refuses to hand me that wand, a wand I realize looks suspiciously like mine. Minutes of begging and his sick, gleeful smile convince me that I will not convince him tonight. And so I, clad in black and full of anger follow him, simply because I think beating the shit out of something would keep me from beating the shit out of him, not that I really could with the charms on my enslavement. I can't lay a hand on the fucker if he doesn't want it. Still, though, I probably will try if I do not get some of it out of my system. And so we leave, to embark on some great adventure and end up in a techno club on the eastside of town. Before my enslavement, I never frequented these places. The noise alone is enough to bust one's eardrums, and despite some pretty amazing powers of healer's magic, I have no desire to grow new eardrums. So, wincing, I follow him in to the dark, loud, dirty place that he apparently wants to meet someone in. Now, there is one thing that must be understood about my nature. I am a true Gryffindor, proud, defiant, stubborn, reckless, and fearless. I will get dirty and be dirty if I have to. I will get injured if it's necessary. It is in my stubborn nature to prove that I can suffer any of these situations. However, under no circumstances do I like doing these "grungy" things. It is just like I said, I will do the necessary. When I am not fighting or killing, I like for the air around me to be clean and dust free. I don't like any kind of personal pain. In fact, if I am not in a situation where I feel the need to prove myself, I will cry over a throat ache.

Harry used to say that my erratic behavior was the result of me being someone I was not supposed to be. Harry used to say that I was meant to be a healer or a teacher, but never a fighter to which I would look at him and ask: "have you ever seen a healer or a teacher that can chop a person into pieces with their wand?" That would always make him laugh, remembering some of our funnier times. Harry, he---. The part of my mind that is still somewhat sane ( and oh is it a small part) is screaming at me that Harry is dead. It's times like these I wish I was completely nuts, just so I wouldn't have to remember that. A deep breath of the filthy air brings me back to the club. Gods, is this disgusting. The air is so thick with fuck- knows- what that I feel as if I could cut it with that knife I see tucked into the back of Severus' pants. So, instead I suck up a breath and follow him, the vile air nearly shutting my lungs down. He stops a moment, putting up one of those thin pale hands with those thin pale fingers. The light off the disco ball catches the metal of the skull on his ring as he intently looks around.

There's a pain in my head.

A sharp drone hits my senses and I feel it as I begin to retch violently. Severus looks at me somewhat awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do for my pain. I want to tell him to fuck off, but the part of my brain that is capable of coherent speech is letting the pain shut it down. He puts and agitated hand on his waist, as though waiting for me to recover, but I only sink to the ground in a weak and very uncharacteristic show of submission. Then the world goes black…..

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_We are in a café, eating something that is definitely not good for us. Harry scarffing down three double cheeseburgers and an order of fries, while I peck at my measly bacon cheeseburger and chilly-cheese fries, we are talking._

"_Have you ever considered what you would do if we lost?" he asks through a mouthful of food. It strikes me as odd that he would ask such a serious question with gobs of half- masticated food peeking out of his mouth._

_I take a thoughtful slurp of my milkshake and ponder his question._

"_I guess they'd kill me just like they will everyone else" I tell him, putting my milkshake down._

_He laughs and I start to laugh too. After all, I was much more forgiving in those days. "No they wouldn't. You're like a cockroach. I mean, I doubt that even a nuclear weapon could kill you. You're just to damn stubborn to die, to give up like that"_

"_Harry….close your mouth when you chew. And second, everyone dies. Even cockroaches."_

"_But not the invincible Hermione."_

"_Shut up and eat…"_

"_But you didn't answer my question."_

"_No," I correct him, "I answered. You just didn't like my response"_

_He puts up two hands to grab a cheeseburger "Bloody hell. You've gone cranky in the past few months."_

"_Well, war does tend to alter one's attitude towards life."_

_He grins, one of those boyish lopsided grins that I had come so much to love._

"_Promise me something…" he asks quietly, all hints of our previous playful banter gone. "Promise me you will always trust Snape."_

_I groan at him. "Gods…. I hate that greasy git. Why in the world should I trust him?"_

_Harry and I had had millions of arguments over the sneaky double agent working in our war._

"_Just, Mione, I know you don't like him, but he will help you some day, but you have to trust him. Please, for me."_

_He was serious, so serious that it frightens me. I nod dumbly, wondering what exactly Harry knows, and when I will get to find out what he means._


	4. Chapter 4

(AN) Hello! Sorry for the delay in chapter 4! Thanks to all for being so patient. I did this chapter in a rush, so if there are any grammatical errors, please feel free to let me know. I would also like to thank all of my reviewers for their helpful and insightful reviews. To the reviewer DRACOSBALLDUSTER, your review is the exception to this comment. If you do not like Snape and Hermione fanfictions DO NOT READ! It is posted in my story summary what this fiction was. As for the comment that Hermione would rather do Wormtail than Snape, I think you will find that most disagree. As for Snape being an obsessive bully with no balls, what exactly is the wormtail you so obviously admire? There is also not one racists remark in my story. And last, you spelled abandon incorrectly. If you must write such profane and perverted things, I prefer that you spell them without error. For those of you who judged and regarded my story fairly, I thank you. However, if I receive any more reviews that tell me to "Eat shit and die" simply because the reviewer does not agree with the casting of the two main characters, I will pull the anonymous review feature off of my fanfiction. There is a way to critique a story without so much cruelty! Also, just for clarification, Hermione is nearly 27 in this story. So, it could hardly be considered rape!

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CHAPTER 4

I wake with a start, bathed in sweat and thrashing wildly in my bed. No, wait, not my bed. I dart up, taking in my surroundings. This is Snape's bed….This is….and there was….Bloody hell, Severus was in the room. I have to get out of here, before he wakes up in that overstuffed chair of his and finds me.

I gulp in a breath, and throw the covers off of my sweating body. With a slight groan, I try to push myself out of bed, but I only succeed in taking two steps before I collaps on the floor.

"Why dearest, do you need help?" A calm, cold voice drawls from the shadows.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask him putting my head down on the cold floor in defeat.

"Who said I was asleep?" In the darkness, I can just make out his pearly sharp teeth in a grin.

"Fucker." I groan, shaking my head.

He chuckles and comes behind me to pick me up and put me on the bed.

"Dearest, dearest. Whenever will you learn to speak as a lady should.?"

I eye him strangely, for a moment realizing that we sound like old friends caught up in some sort of playful banter. Damn, I hate moments like this, where the world just comes full circle in front of you, and you realize something that you were better off not knowing. It's nice to be in the dark for some things.

"When I become a lady." Smirking at this comment, I tentively take in my surroundings. "Why am I here?" I breath, barely able to think with the unexpected haze of emotions rushing through my body. What the hell, girl….Get a grip.

"Because you passed out." is his simple reply.

"Really….Now how in the hell did I know that that was what I had done?" I cock my head at him. "Why…Why….did I pass out Einstein?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It almost looks like something a new witch would have done."

I shoot him what I only hope he will only take as a fuck-off look.

"Brilliant, really, but I'm not new. What was wrong with that place? There was something there. It was like it was weighing on my mind, suffocating me."

"Wards." He answers simply. "The wards around the building were not going to be broken without someone knowing they were, so I put a spell on you that allowed for safe passage." He wraps his long pale fingers around one another. "What did you dream about?"

I swing my head to look at him, somewhat startled at the question. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you were just mumbling something in your sleep and tossing and turning." A moment of pregnant silence stretches out between us.

"And, Severus?"

"Well, you kept crying for Harry."

I cast my eyes down for a moment, willing the tears to stay put. "I don't remember." I tell him, looking away from his intense stare.

I hear him get up and leave the room.

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_Harry is in love. In all the years I have known him, that he proclaimed feelings beyond measure for me, I have never known him to be this happy. I smile at him as he tells me about the girl Anne, an American member of the order that we have yet to give our lives for, and somehow, I just cannot feel as joyful as he does. For starters, my heart is breaking. He will marry another woman in two weeks, and his heart will never be mine again._

_"Hermione? Is everything okay?" He asks, and I turn my attention away from the sounds reverberating through my chest to look at him, the fake smile back and more brilliant than ever._

_"Of course, darling. Why wouldn't I be?"_

_"You just look…like you're upset." He tells me with a line creasing his brow._

_The smile widens and becomes more dazzling._

_"Well, I am not. I am perfectly happy that you are so happy. If you see any hint of worry in my face, it is because I am concerned of what Ron will think. He was quite taken with her also."_

_Harry grins and looks around at the swirl of people rushing about, his handsome profile catching the sun. My breathe catches in my throat, a rush of emotions coming at me. How could I have left him. Why did I not hold on to him as he was so fond of trying to hold on to me?_

_I hear him make an excuse to go, but I hardly care. He is gone to me. The one thing that I thought I could always have is gone to me, and that loss alone is heart wrenching. I think of Anne, her petite blonde frame melding into Harry's as she leads him from me. I am overcome with jealousy, so much so that my eyes are clouded. I think back to the meetings. Harry never talked with her. They never made eye contact. They hadn't even been on a date before three days ago. It was in Harry's nature to be rash and impulsive at times but this? It is a little much. Something must be wrong with her, something off. I do not know if it is pure instinct or jealousy pushing me to these conclusions, but I strongly suspect the ladder, so I take a deep breathe and decide to just calm down._

_What in the world could be wrong with Anne?_

_The answer: very much._


	5. Chapter 5

Hi, everyone. I have finally added a new chapter. I tried to make it longer than the last. Hope you enjoy!

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CHAPTER 5 

_Harry is calling to me, warning me of something, but I cannot hear what he is saying._

_I am dreaming. In the fine line between lunacy and pretended saneness, I can hardly tell the difference these days. But, no, Harry is calling to me. He is screaming, his eyes alive and full of pain. I cannot help but wonder that he is still a figment of my overstretched psyche._

_Why would he bother to warn me of anything?_

_It was, after all, me who sank the avada kevadra into his chest. It was I who watched as his eyes glazed over, unblinking, accusingly staring at me. It was I who dropped on the floor in defeat, sobbing, trying to bring him back to me in all sorts of forbidden chants and magic. And when that failed, I killed his lover._

_Anne._

_Even my dream self shudders at the thought._

_If not for her, he would still be here. If not for me, he would still be here. I suppose that is something we share. Always so powerful, I was always so smart. I should have seen that the power was getting beyond my control, that something was wrong with me, that I was perhaps not thinking entirely too rationally when I went to their shared flat to confront the she- demon._

_But illusion was her magic._

_That's why no one could see who she really was._

_Or what she planned to do._

_

* * *

_

Severus sits perched on the end of my bed when I awake. Groggily, I shift in the bed, tangling the covers further around my body, and tucking a heavy hand under my pillow.

"Good morning Hermione."

I groan at him. I really hope the groan says fuck off, but I hate you would be sufficient.

"I need you to get up…"

I groan again. This one is fuck off bastard.

I suddenly have an impulse, however silly or childish to pull the covers up over my head and pretend that the world doesn't exist, so I do. Severus, however in his usual stern and traditional mind set and of course having none of such behavior, rips the covers from my curled form and shoots me a look that one can only construe as pissed off. Oh, well, let him be. I mean what is he going to do to me? Kill everyone that I hold dear and hold me prisoner in a small dog cage where I am brutally tortured every day? Then take me as a slave and make my life a living hell. Well…

I instinctively curl further into a ball to get warm and start dozing off, but Severus, enraged at the thought that someone is ignoring him, picks me up and tosses me in my already drawn bath, snarling to me in my state of shock that I am to wake up immediately.

If I was even a tiny bit more spiteful, I would drown myself.

* * *

Today, I am to be coiffed and coutered in the latest and most ladylike of fashions. I know that there are going to be problems when Snape sends four ladies up to my room to help me into my dress. 

Four bloody women to put on a dress?

That's how I knew my day was going to be very hateful indeed.

Of course, in the past year, I really haven't had a day that hasn't been hateful.

My thoughts keep going back to the dream from last night. Harry, his eyes wild with pain and fear, screaming out to me. One of the ladies is giving me a strange look. I realize that a stray tear has fallen down my cheek. It would be like Harry to do something so selfless. Of course he would try to save the one who had killed him.

"Madame, how would you like your hair?" one of the servant girl asks, running an idle hand through my wild hair and getting her hand stuck on a knarl of curls. The thoughts of the dream have made me irritable beyond measure. I look at this eager girl and feel a my chest swell in resentment. Well, serves her right. I watch her struggling to free herself while trying to keep from bringing any discomfort to her "mistress". She frowns for a moment, the first time all morning I have seen her frown. I am glad. She is far too cheery for my taste. In fact, just being in her presence makes me want to vomit. Instead, I give her a pointed look, only reacting so mildly you understand because I do not want to ruin my lovely dress that I have just spent the last forty- five minutes getting into, and tell her she will have to ask the bastard downstairs.

"The bastard downstairs wishes for her hair to be pulled away from her face, but left down." A calm, seductive voice calls from my door as I wince slightly like a cornered schoolchild who has just been caught talking about the teacher. Well, school girl I am no more and have not been for quite a while. I pull my head up and look at him steadily.

"Snape, how nice of you to join us. How much we have enjoyed spending our entire morning getting me into one dress." I smile sweetly and begin to put on my blush, resisting the urge to curtsy. "Please, please give us the privilege more often."

I wait for a comment, a sarcastic remark, a barbed tongue, but there is none.

Snape is silent and remains so for the remainder of the time that the ladies are in my room.

I know now that my day can only get worse.

And of course, I am rarely ever wrong.

As soon as the blonde headed chit is finished, Severus shuts the door with a resounding click.

"You should really watch you mouth, darling. WE wouldn't want the other men that visit me to get the wrong idea. I have been extremely kind up until this moment. You should know what the little Weasly girl suffers in the hands of her captor"

For a moment, I feel rage filling my body, setting it on fire. I can almost imagine that my skin is bright red. How dare him mention Ginny. How dare him act as though his treatment of me has been anything but monstrous. I resist the urge to fly at him, wipe that cruel smirk from his face, but I resist, knowing what the magical enslavement tattoo on my back will do to me if I threaten him. I can almost feel it tingling now in memory of the one and only time I attacked him in my position as slave. I take several deep breaths.

"We must keep up positions. You must keep your place…"

"Oh I am to PLAY the unwilling slave?"

"No, you are to act like you are frightened of me, terrified even. I have not punished you since you have been with me for various reasons. I can though if it will help your little attitude."

I want to tell Snape then that he scares the hell out of me, but the words refuse to come out. Why would I tell him? 'Hi, Snape, you remind me of a young Jeffrey Dahmer.'

Yes, I can imagine that that would go over extremely well. He does scare the hell out of me. I suppose it is the thought that this thing has complete control over me, that he decides my fate, that he in fact my "owner" .

"Why should I care about what they think of you and me?"

That is stupid. In the split second after I say it, I know the answer: because both of our lives depend on it. However, following in true Granger nature, I am far too stubborn to take it back.

He shoves me against the wall my back is to. I tense for a moment in fear of what he will do, but then realize I do not care. I deserve to die for what I have done. I almost crave it in light of what I am now.

"Well, princess, I think that you know that answer. Just in case, let me give you a little reminder. See, I have been very forgiving up until now. I have let you have your peace. I have tried to help you through. I have even tried to be caring, and in doing so, I have come very close to compromising us. You see, when a man takes on a female slave, it is not usually to 'save her'. No, it is to fuck her, plain and simple. I am supposed to be using you to within an inch of your sanity, which I see that if I were to start now, I would not have very far to go before you went over the deep end."

I grunt underneath him in anger and try to push him off of me.

"Oh, you would, wouldn't you? I always knew that you were really a monster."

"Yes, I am. Do not forget that." And with that shooting comment still ringing in my ears, Severus leans down and kisses me. I feel fire shoot through my body. It is savage, angry, intended to punish…much like he is at the moment. But then it melts away to be replaced with….I don't know. It is something that I have never really felt before, almost like intense tenderness. I kiss him back, eager for some feeling, any feeling but despair and anger and he responds, going to the buttons of my gown.

For a moment he starts, then stills and then abruptly pulls himself off of me. He runs a hand through his dark black hair and look at the door, almost as if to hide some emotion or break in his icy facade.

"We cannot, not like this." And with that, he stands back, the black overcoat he wears billowing behind him as he makes his way to the door and coldly informs me to meet him in an hour downstairs where we will depart. I stare after him a moment, briefly touching my fingers to my lips which are still swollen from his kisses. What just happened? My mind is buzzing at me with questions to which I cannot have the answers. But more importantly, I do not care to have the answers. I am not sad. I do not want to cry. I am confused, an emotion that in my ethereal hate had not been afforded me. Hate is sure and unforgiving, but love….

Did I just say love?

Mentally chastising myself, I walk to the door feeling a strange feeling of lightheadedness take me over. He kissed me. No. NO. NOOO. I shake my head. I am his plaything. That is all, his redemption.

I will never be a monster's whore.

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A/N Just a quick thank you to my reviewers. I really appreciate your reviews. Thanks so much! Well, what did you guys think? I promise that you will see what happened between Hermione and Harry. I'll give you a hint: Hermione is not so guilty as she seems. That is all I will tell you. I am not going to say that I will update soon, because everytime I do, something happens to prevent it. So, keep in mind that I am going to TRY to update very soon. I am going to try very, very hard. I am going to try very, very, very hard. Thanks for reading!  



	6. Chapter 6

Another chapter! Thanks to my reviewers. For all of you wondering, I promise Hermione is not so bad as she seems. Just trust me on this. The next couple chapters are going to be quite the surprise. Just one more little hint: things aren't always the way they seem, or the way the author makes them out to be. Remember, this story is being told from only Hermione's point of view. I am trying to give you little pieces of information at a time to make it more interesting. So, just wait. Don't freak out on me, and enjoy your chapter.

Thanks for reading.

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He is silent in the car.

It is deafening, to hear the nothingness when so much needs to be said. I look out the window, anything to take my mind from the turmoil and confusion swirling around it. He is ignoring me. I can feel that from him. I look back at him, hoping for something, anything but feel his denial, his complete and utter refusal to even acknowledge my presence. I shiver. The air is cold. In the richly upholstered car that Severus has me in,this is evident. A thick gloom settles over the land around us and I look to him yet again for answers, but he is still only silent. So, I give myself back over to the scenery: Cold, dark little houses. There are almost no cars now. Before, there were cars everywhere one turned. They covered the earth almost as thoroughly as people. Now…now it is desolate. When I was a little girl, I used to have this recurring nightmare that the world was made so empty as it is now. I would wake up to this razen and parched land where everyone was dead, and god it was so lonely. I would cry for hours after I woke up.

Now, it really isn't that scary.

The car stops abruptly.

Cursing, I lurch forward and grab my seatbelt to steady myself. Severus looks over at me with a strange expression. I hear a click and the door opens when a rough looking man grabs my arm and drags me from the car. I struggle and scream, busting one man's nose with my elbow and breaking another's arm. Severus looks calm, and the thought flutters across my mind that he planned this, that perhaps he has finally sickened of me. Or maybe, the closeness of what we almost did brought emotions to that cold heart that he couldn't and wouldn't feel. I remember the disgust shining in his eyes as he pushed himself back from me in my room.

_There are twelve of them, Hermione. Stop struggling, you cannot beat all of them. They are assassins_.

The voice reverberates in my head. Severus has picked his way in there somehow. He flashes me a look to make sure I know it is him, and I nod, calming down at his intense gaze.

The men push me down onto the ground, using their magic to hold me. The feeling energizes me as it has been so long since I have felt the familiar thrum of powerful magic coursing through my body. I had rather hoped my reintroduction would be under different circumstances.

"Where is the boy?" The man's voice, a heavy british drawl, sounds out against the empty air. I try to search Severus' mind for more information, but he has shielded it. I follow suit. The man smells of tobacco and …spices? Like something exotic.

"I've no idea what you are talking about." He narrows his eyes at the man, who in response comes to stand beside me.

What the hell is he doing? Severus looks at me, impassively schooling his features. I know what is to come now. They think I am important to him. They will punish me for his lack of cooperation.

"Your lover will suffer for your lies." The man says, and in that insane moment I want to laugh and tell him that the bastard that is lying would probably rather beat the fuck out of me himself. I don't though as the man, who I notice now is rather quite old, brings one booted heel down on my first finger, crushing the delicate bones.

I've felt pain in many shapes and forms. But this, this is unimaginable, burning white hot through first my hand and then my entire body. My mind is screaming at me to do something, say something, but I don't. I don't even scream. No, I don't scream, but I cannot help the solitary tear that travels down my cheek. I will not give the man whose boot heel is still grinding into my finger the privilege of seeing that.

Severus laughs, and then I really start thinking about all the ways I had earlier imagined torturing and then killing him. Really, I've always been a vengeful person, always kind of achieved because of my amazing capacity for disdain. I decide that if we get out of this alive, I will crush his finger, too, maybe even cut it off and shove it down his throat.

"You think this whore is important to me? She is chattel. That is all. I don't know what boy you are speaking of, but now I am rather late for a very important engagement. My party will wonder where I am." His seductive voice curls around my ears and calms me.

Magic. The thought causes me to start out of my stupor of pain and hate. Severus is putting them in a trance so we can escape. Well, at least him. I'm not so sure about me. He can be pretty vindictive when he wants and I did call him a bastard this morning. I try to look up at him and catch his eye but he is deep in concentration obviously casting.

"Chattel…" the old man asks, cocking a thick eyebrow. "Then why haven't you fucked her?" He smirks, and for a moment, I see the impassive mask that is Severus' face crumble, his bearing become unsure. He gains it back quickly, though and eyes the man down.

"What makes you think I have not?" He asks, calm again.

"Call it a hunch. Oh, and you shouldn't use magick on me, Severus. It really won't work. I am a little harder to trick than your average wizard."

"He was calming me down just fine." I mutter to the pavement below my body which earns me a well- placed kick to the abdomen. Severus starts again at this, trying to move toward me.

"Leave her be. Hurting her will do nothing but infuriate me into ignoring you."

"Yeah, leave me be. I mean, I'm really just minding my own business down here" I mumble to the pavement yet again which earns me an angry look from the lesser of two evils standing above me."

"Then I will ask you once more. Where is the boy?"

Severus looks at me and then at the man. He opens his mouth for a moment, then on second thought closes it.

"Canada…" My voice rings out among the cold. "The boy, and the boy I presume you are looking for… is in Canada."

The old man leans down to me after a look of mock disbelief. "And just how would you know this?"

"Because it was actually my order that has him. Have you not heard that this thing that you assume to be my companion killed many of us with his betrayal. So why, in the damn world, would he know where he was at?" I bitterly tell the man, a sinking feeling of despair in my stomach.

The man looks at me as though weighing my words. He tilts his head to the side.

"Of course, mas enfante. He would not know, but why would you betray your friend so easily?"

I start for a moment. My friend…what?

"My friend has abandoned me, left me for dead with this fucker. Why should I show any loyalty." A wave of relief washes over me as the magic holding me is released. I stand up, shaking off the pain throbbing through my fingers. The man tilts his head to the other side and I am confronted with the image of a bird sizing up its prey. As a reflex, I feel tension in my body gathering, tightening my bones and heating my blood. My breathing speeds up. My heartbeat reverberates through my head.

_Hermione, calm down. Your ears are red. I can practically feel static come off of you. You can't fight without your wand_. His voice is ringing in my ears. Yes, come to think of it, I do feel a little hot.

The man throws back his head and laughs, and for a moment, I am think of a villain in a cartoon. Daeth….the man's name is Daeth. A swirl of images comes to me, sending me back a couple of steps. Snape, seeing his chance, rushes in front of me in an effort to stop the images or protect me, I don't know. It doesn't really work, though. The images are instead changed.

A father calling a boy out of his hiding spot after his fathers death.

Me coming down the stairs after the fight in the dress

A little boy killing his father with magic

A man crying in the dark

A mother burning alive

A boy being beaten.

Me in my cell.

Nightmares.

Demons

Death.

Me

I pull back with a gasp staring in wonderment at an awe-struck Severus. In that moment, I want to pull him to me and cry, for his pain, for my pain, for our pain. I want to tell him that he only did what he had to. For just that moment, I see him for what he is: a scared little boy playing a dangerous game. I want to linger in that temporary crack in his strong wall of stony indifference. I want to suck him out through that break and keep him in the open forever, always knowing how he thinks or feels. His eyes dart to Bartok and then to me, confusion clouding the icy blacks.

"You didn't strip her magic. How interesting." Daeth's voice pulls him out of his amazement and that stony wall once again constructs itself. I know in that moment that Severus has been discovered, that there will be no going back for us, that in probably no time we are dead.

"I did…" he whispers through my haze. "The filthy witch must have found a way to…" He breaks off in uncertainty.

For a moment, I wonder if he is lying or telling the truth. My mind weighs the two and I finally decide he is lying. This new vulnerable Severus could never do that.

"I will take it from her again." He reaches forward and a ribbon of colors comes from me into him. "

No. My new Severus could never do that, but the old sick, sadistic bastard Snape sure could. I groan as I collapse onto the ground in a fit of haziness, my head making a sickening thump on the concrete. So much has been sucked out of my body. It feels like there is a hole in my head. My thoughts waver and I once again become flooded with images, but these images are no one else's but my own. Memories…no, nightmares of my life, highlighted and magnified for my almost comatose viewing pleasure. I wonder if I have died and gone to hell, and if I have not, could this really be the last thing I see before death. If I were stronger, I would be filled with rage. Now, I can barely move. I pull in a breath out of sheer force of will, the same will that Snape once chided me for having. A flutter of emotion flies through my weakening body. I was clinging to him…am clinging to him because he is one of the few vestiges I have of a world that was once all I knew. I was clinging to him because he was the only way I could have even a piece of it back. Again the memories hit, beat me while I am incapacitated. If past experiences could kill you, I would have been dead long ago. I fade in and out of fogginess, knowing with an alarming certainty that I will probably not be getting up from the cold grey slab of rock below me. It feels like blood is filling up my eyeballs, and I again pull in a breath. Amazing, someone as strong and as brave as me could fall victim to such a simple death.

I would laugh if I could

Really.

There is something going on above me. I pull in another breath, sending a sharp pain through my lungs. There are voices above me. The world starts to come back into focus with startling clarity. I feel the skin on my head pulling, tugging back into place, covering the large crack. The blood comes back into me, and I draw in another breath shakily. I can feel magic gathering in my body, pulling me taut and ready beneath it's demanding presence. Many have often tried to explain the feeling magic, but it is nearly impossible. I can tell you this. It is like seeing everything for the first time. You notice everything. Time slows and your blood pumps so steadily that you could set a watch by it. It is the feeling of power.

I stand up, somewhat woozily at first. Snape looks at me amusingly, as though he knew what was going to happen. Daeth, though, just laughs. That is the bastard I will deal with first, I vow silently, pulling energy around me for a killing blow.

The man falls to the ground, twitching and flopping like a dead fish. The strike…it wasn't mine. I look around, my gaze settling heavily on Snape. His hands are red and steaming. He looks down with a sadness swimming in his eyes. I know that look. It is the same look that I used to get after every kill, the look that says "just more blood on my conscience". There are several men still wavering around the still twitching body. I flex my fingers and a look of understanding passes between us. I will protect him in his moment of human emotion. Daeth's team backs off, as though in fear of the both of us. The magic lets go of my body, and I slump forward, no longer held up by the force. I sit down shakily, leaning my head against the car. Snape still hasn't moved, but stands transfixed by the sight of the dead man.

"He was in the order…Why in the world would he come after us?" His voice is quiet, distant, as though in thought or confusion.

"Snape, you did what you had to do. If you hadn't killed him, I would have."

I stop for a moment. I have never really been able to do much wandless magic. What in the hell just happened? The power that I just felt was amazing, overwhelming. It felt very old, like it came from somebody who was quite good at it.

I look at Snape.

"WE needed answers." He growls in frustration and turns around to put a solid arm on the car. His moment of human weakness is now gone.

"What good are answers if we are dead?" I point out, rather calmly considering our car now has a scorch mark on it.

Fuck.

Our car?

Severus is looking at me, his head cocked slightly to the side as if in question. I wonder briefly if he heard that thought, but I decide quickly that he probably didn't. After all, I still hear no smart- ass comment. He looks down for a moment and balls his hands into fists.

"Only one of us had to die."

I cock my eyebrow at him in a mock effort to hide my surprise.

"I could have let you die"

He looks at me, uncertainty clouding his feature. For a moment, I wonder if this is the same Snape at all, so unsure of who he is. Never in all the years that I had exchanged sharp words with this man have I ever seen him look uncertain, and now, I have had the privilege of seeing it twice in one day. Who would be posing as Snape? What the hell kind of drugs is he on? But, sadly, I know better. The same old monster is there, a hateful, arrogant, cruel temperament lurking behind an elegant and indifferent façade. Today, I decide, he must be on his man period.

"Did you hear me?" he asks, looking as though ready for flying objects to head his way. Instead, I calmly turn his way.

"Yes, I heard you, Severus. I quite agree. You could have let me die. Why you didn't is beyond me. Someday, maybe you'll let me in on the reason you play the mind games that you play." I pull myself up, only slightly woozy now, and head to the car.

"No. You know why I didn't let you die, Honor binds me to save you like Harry asked."

"Honor! Honor? What honor is there among killers Snape?" I snarl at him, barely able to bear it shoved in my face that I am another man's burden, saved only by the one I killed. "And in the end, Severus, that is all we are- killers."

* * *

Okay, I know that Hermione says Snape is on his man period. Some of you may not find that very funny, but I do, so it stays. If it offends you, I am sorry, but there is nothing to be offended by. Please don't get offended. So, what did you guys think? Are any of you wondering what is going on? Thanks again for reading, and I hope to post soon. 


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Not much action here, but it does tell some more about what happened between Harry and Hermione. In response to some of your questions: Yes, the man Daeth was in the order, and the boy that Daeth was looking for...well, I'll save that for later (evil author laugh). The story will unfold itself slowly, but in either chapter seven or eight, you will see what exactly happened between Harry and Hermione! On last thing, and then I will leave you all alone for the night: I would like to apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. I know they are there, but I really didn't have time to fix them. So please don't review me telling me my grammar sucks. Okay, one more thing and then I will really leave you alone for the night. Thanks to all my reviewers for your wonderful and encouraging reviews. You guys really are great! Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 7 

There is silence between us, and I am glad for it. So quickly and thoroughly was I almost ensnared by this thing, by a feeling that comes form one who is a liar and incapable of emotion, but our little argument helped to stop that. I can almost see that sick face twisting into a sneer at my expense. Honestly, to act like a naïve schoolgirl….

I feel dizzy for a moment, a strange heat flaring up in my head.

"What a shame. She can't even keep a man. I heard he will send her to another house."

My ears perk up.

"I wonder what will happen to her? Perhaps she will be sent to a Malfoy. I've heard tales of those people…"

Fear and anxiety begin to gather in my belly. A cold trembling takes over. Instinctively, I pick up the brush from my vanity and start running it through my hair, so to fool any onlookers.

"It would serve her right." I hear the young blonde joining in. "She is always so uppity..."

"NO, it would not serve anyone right. She's not uppity, Julia, she has been through some bad things. Before he got her, she was tortured. They say she isn't right up there."

I almost laugh. They are probably right in this assumption. My mind doesn't feel all there, but then today it feels very wrong. Pushing through a haze, I wonder about why I feel so hot.

* * *

Thick curtains have been pulled shut over the windows and the air smells like herbs, healing herbs for sickness. The scent burns my nostrils with recognition. No sun has been let into my room for nearly three days as my body burns with fever. No sun on my already warm skin and already strained eyes. I burn now, hot and cold, for fear of what will be, for fear of what is. I can keep nothing now, retching constantly with even an attempt. Memories of my torture come rushing back to me. The doctor has called for my death. Perhaps it will come swiftly…

I am dreaming of Harry, of Anne, my friend long before I was Harry's lover. They were such simple times, and I know that seems strange, that a group of people could have "simple" times while in the midst of a war, but we did what everyone else does in situations such as that.

We dealt.

We treated each day as though everything were normal and life was going to see us into a ripe old age. Every hunt or mission party, I watched Anne send her husband off with tears in her eyes, all of the color gone from her face. I watched him press his forehead to hers and whisper sweet nothings in languages that were used to wield powerful magic. I could see his face, that lopsided grin that was only for me, and had been for as long as I could remember.

"Hermione…." A voice in the room breaks into my thoughts, and I want to scream at it for that slip. The fevered part of my brain tells me that it might not be real, that I might be dreaming it…

"Hermione," comes the soft, insistent voice again "I know you are awake…Can you hear me?"

Weakly, I turn towards the owner of such tenderness toward me, and nearly choke when I see Snape sitting down on my bed

"Severus" I all but croak at him "I feel so hot."

He puts a cool hand on my forehead.

"You are burning up." He stands up, a vision in all black, and wets a washcloth for my burning skin.

"Are you real, or am I dreaming?" I ask him, my mind swimming in confusion.

"Shall I be mean to you so you can be sure of who I am?"

My brow furrows in confusion until I realize he is making a joke.

"No….the memories are mean enough. I can see him….God Snape. I think I will go to hell for what I did to him."

"No, dearest." He laughs softly. "I don't think any woman has ever gone to hell for breaking a man's heart."

"I killed him."

For a moment he stills, the gentle chuckle in his expression now gone. A bone white hand runs through a lock of black hair. He looks so much like death. The dark clothes, his skeletal skin and unearthly pallor make me imagine a scythe in his hand, swooping down for me. The candles flicker as he takes a deep breathe.

"What happened?" he asked, taking my hand. I almost pull it back, surprised at this uncharacteristic show of affection from him, but then I stop. It feels so good. It has been to long since I have had the touch of another on my skin to soothe me, and he is so cold. The iciness of his blood helps to cool my heated flesh.

"I hardly know." My voice is not much more than a whisper now. "I am so scared. Can you make it stop? It has been so long since I asked anything of another person. I thought I was beyond redemption. I thought I would die in that cage, scared and lonely, but defiant…I would rather die than give in…"

He pulls me back to him as I trail off in some unintelligible words.

"Hermione…" he calls urgently to me. "You can't die now, not after you have come so far in this war."

"I want to be punished for what I did. I am a monster… I thought you would leave me to my fate. I would rather die than become a monster's whore. You have to understand. I can never be broken like that…."

"What fate….?" He asked, a confused look spreading over his handsome features.

"The other men. I know that you tired of me, but they said….I would go to another house." I cough horribly, wracking my already thin body as the familiar, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

He puts a handkerchief to my mouth in an attempt to wipe the blood up.

"I overloaded the other day. The magic that I used was not mine to use, was it?" I ask him, the simple act of coughing has cleared my mind for a moment.

A simple nod is all he gives, no explanation, no words, just a dumb nod to confirm what I guessed in a moment of clear fever induced delieria.

"If I had not given you some of my magic, you would have died then. I healed you and gave you power to use to protect yourself."

"I am dying from it, am I not?" He looks away from me.

"Few can harness wandless magic. It was a skill I learned from my mother long ago. Under the circumstances, it was all I could do for you."

"She died, didn't she. Those images with the little dark haired boy and his family, those were from you" It is more a statement than a question.

"I appears that when I gave you some of my powers, you also gained some of my skills as well." But of course, I had figured that, too.

"Why would you waste your time with me? Why not just let me die?"

I know his answer before he even gives it.

"Because I made a promise…"

"To the man that I killed…" I trail off again, the languages merging in my head. I wish I had the strength to cough once more, just one more moment of clarity before the darkness takes over.

"What happened to him?" Severus asks in that dark, seductive voice of his, like some demon priest come to hear my confession.

"He dies." I tell him, "Everynight in my dreams, I get to see him looking up at me, his dead eyes full of hurt and betrayal. I feel the flames of hell licking at me even now."

"And Anne? Does she not stare back at you?"

"She was bad," I tell him, "It was an accident, but she was bad."

"Shhhhh." A newly wetted washcloth is put on my forehead. "It is the fever burning you."

"But I killed them…I didn't mean to, but that excuse only works when you are very young and then not very well at all."

His laugh rings gently in my ears again. It is a new sound for him, something that sounds new and unfamiliar to his throat. The gentle sound sings me to sleep, and I know in that last moment that even if I die, I will go with happily with that one memory.

* * *

_The storm was brewing overhead, the cold dark clouds rolling in. Two figures are running down a street, the streetlights flickering as they pass them, a smell of blood and death beating at their backs like some invisible master driving them on. One stumbles on the rain soaked pavement when the other leans to help him up, her hood falling back to reveal chestnut colored hair, drenched through and through and matted to her pretty face._

_"Harry… You have to get up. Not much further. We're almost there. You can make it."_

_He leans on her, almost collapsing her with his weight as they pass the little apple pie houses lined along the road. Any other time she would have noted the irony of the situation. Hell on their heels in apple pie America._

_He slips for a minute, the blood and rain making it hard for him to keep a grip on her, the woman who would throw him over her shoulder and carry him if she had the strength._

_" Not much further…" she tells him again, willing him to stay alive for just a few more moments. _

_A deafening roar splits the sky, lightning cracking the mountains. _

_"Harry, if we get out of this, you owe me a milkshake…"_

_His body trembles slightly at an attempt to laugh. It was their way, this easy camaraderie, almost dying, laughing about it, facing death, cracking jokes._

_It was kind of sick_

_"Don't let Anne see me hurt. She'll flip." He tells her, his voice pained as he struggles to take some of his weight off of her._

_"Come on, now. How many times have I saved you from trouble with that woman. Besides, I mean, she is really kind of scary. I would definitely not want to be the one that dragged you half dead to her."_

_Another loud crack fills the air as a tree lurches in front of them._

_"Anyway, like I said. If I took you back there like this, she would kill me. And then, of course she'd kill you, even though these whole messes are your fault."_

_"My fault…?" He asks, his voice fading._

_"Wake up." She tells him, a hint of fear in her voice as she hoists him against her more tightly. "You got yourself into this, and I'm about to drop you and let you get yourself out." Her voice was harsh, but only out of fear._

_"You wouldn't dare. Who else would put up with you for a partner?"_

_She laughs in response to that, some of the old Harry peeking out to her._

_Yes, tonight she was sure they would both be alright._

_

* * *

_

"Miss, you've got to wake up and eat something. The fever will only worsen if you don't eat. Take some soup" I hear an old voice call me from painful memories. I roll over in an attempt to stay asleep.

"Miss, miss, you've got to eat. The master says for you to." I crack an eyelid open at her and nearly scream as the sun hits my eyes. My body jerks in pain as the aged lady goes to shut the blinds.

"I thought some light might do you some good." She offers in way of explanation, and yet she does not. The woman shuffling around the room with golden grey hair and wrinkled skin has an air about her that most older woman do, as though they know best and will answer to no one for that knowledge.

She's spunky.

"How long…" I start, but my voice sounds barely there, so I start again. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Nearly ten days." She says matter of factly, handing me a glass of water and going to straighten my pillows.

"Ten days…" My mouth gapes slightly in wonder.

"Yes, dearie. You were out for three days, burning with fever, and then on that third day, it started to go down. The sir was mighty worried for you. He sat in here and talked with you while you were babbling in those nonsense phrases of yours. What was that again?" She asks, preparing my food on a tray for me.

"They were spells," I tell her simply. She moves to say something else, but then stops, comprehension dawning on her aged face.

"Ah, so you are one of those kind?" It isn't a question, and we both know it. Her wise, glowing eyes are sizing me up, almost as if she can read me. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I used to be one of those kind." I tell her evenly, surprising even myself that I can be that calm. "Now I am property."

She nods as though satisfied and places the tray on my lap. A rush of scents fill my nostrils making my stomach growl in return. She laughs gently.

"Eat now, child. Then you can sleep more."

* * *

So, what did you guys think? Please review! Thanks so much for reading! 


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